Wings and Talons
by Cuz Im Batgirl
Summary: Quinn and Valor's final training days brings them back to their childhood woods. Their training partner left to follow the trail of a spy and Quinn self assigned a mission to retrieve him. However, things take a turn and she is led face to face with an old adversary. This will be a mission that either kick starts her career or kills her. It's just the type of chances Quinn likes.
1. Chapter 1

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Wings and Talons Chapter 1

Quinn glances up at the thick canopies high above her. The autumn leaves faintly crackle beneath her feet despite her efforts. The shadows cast a dye over her clothes, smothering the deep blue into a murky grey. She'd traveled a bit too deep into the forest for her taste. The warnings her supervisor had given her before she left still ring in her head.

"It's not just the monsters out there anymore. There are Mages hiding in those woods." She hadn't the heart to inform him that there are always mages hiding in these woods. They'd just increased in number fleeing from the increased raids by the Freljordian tribes of the north.

To make matters worse, the forest had begun to look familiar a couple miles back. Normally this was a welcome sign, but these were her childhood woods. She was getting closer to the grave with every step. And getting closer to the grave meant getting closer to the tuskvore's den. She couldn't lose another to those beasts.

Her training partner had run off following the trail of a spy. Quinn had raised suspicions to their supervisor about the existence of someone following them on their final days of training, but he had scoffed at her minimal proof as paranoia. Christin had taken offense to this and had rushed off to prove Quinn's suspicions correct.

Quinn begged to be allowed to follow him and bring him back, conceding to take twice the punishment dished out to him in return. They gave permission after a couple hours had passed and he still hadn't returned. Christin was a good recruit, just brash and stubborn at the wrong times. They couldn't afford to lose him in these woods.

The man Christin was tracking was crafty. He had left a false trail that had lured Christin far into the woods. The spy was probably still near the campground, staying undetected. Quinn could only see Christin's trail now. He had apparently chosen to push onwards, even as the false trail had run cold.

A soft screech grabs Quinn's attention. She glances up at the blue feathers that pass above the trees. It's a warning. Christin is ahead, but so is something else.

Quinn pulls herself up into the lowest parts of the canopy, ignoring the unnatural texture of the petricite on her hands. She carefully jumps from tree branch to tree branch, keeping a tuned ear on the sounds below her.

Her eye catches an unusual patch of shadow a few trees away before it disappears. She slows, quickly noting how close she is to the edge of trees. She tightens her grip on her crossbow. It appears again, this time a few trees back from her current position. Almost as if it had noticed her observation. She prepares to turn when she hears him.

"... not here to hurt you guys. I'm just trying to find the person following our company." Christin's voice is calm, calculated. He's outnumbered.

A woman's voice rings a response, "Sounds like a load of hogwash to me. We just came to this area. We have no desire to be anywhere near you, much less follow you. If we had known, we'd already be gone." Her voice wavered a bit beneath a layer of bravado.

Afraid of military and lead by an outspoken woman - Christin and most likely run in mages. Desperate ones at that. They had run to the most dangerous part of these woods to hide.

"You would not leave. I saw the grave near your tents and it looks like it has been there a long time. There's no way you would just leave." Christin sounds adamant about his deduction.

Quinn froze. That is Caleb's grave, meaning that the tuskvore's cave is closer than she thought. This is not good.

The voices are getting louder and louder, as the mages attempt to defend themselves. Some of them try to convince Christin that they just want to leave the area. Other's simply yell profanities in his direction. Quinn gets antsier with each rise in volume. Then an man's voice stops them.

"Why do we sit here and take these accusations from this stranger. He cannot fight all of us. We can simply kill him and be on with our lives."

A sizzling noise starts up as the petricite Quinn is sitting on begins to hum. Magic. Everyone is going to die here unless she does something. She crouches forward, the tips of her toes the only anchor to the tree she has left.

The adjacent branch shakes, causing Quinn to stop her forward momentum. Instinct takes over and her crossbow aims. A chill rides up her spine as she glances to the left. Her crossbow is now aimed squarely between a hooded man's eyes. He seems just as surprised as she at her quickness. His hand is placed securely around her wrist, putting pressure in such a way she can't pull the trigger.

Quinn keeps her breath even, her other hand already touching her combat knife. A sharp twinge on her ankle keeps her from acting. His second hand was ready to cut her tendons at a moment's notice. Quinn's thoughts raced as she went through her options, but her eyes remained calculated, never moving an inch from her attacker's gaze.

Her thoughts drifted to Valor. Was the situation below escalating so badly that he could not spare her a second? No. Valor always had her back, unless he was ordered elsewise. That could only mean that he had gone for reinforcements. Quinn had told him to do that if the truskvore was coming.

The ground began to shake as if right on cue. A huge mammoth lumbers around the corner, clearly upset and ready to gouge anything within it's sight. It's razorhorns gleam menacingly in the air and it swings them wildly.

A shiver runs down Quinns back as the screaming begins to ring in her ears. She closes her eyes, picturing Valor as she grips her crossbow firmer. He'll be back. She just has to hold them off here.

Realizing what she had done, Quinn glances back at the man beside her. He had relieved his death grip on her wrist as some point and had simply pointed the crossbow away from his forehead. The feeling of the knife on her ankle was also gone, instead replaced by a hand which seemed to be attempting to stabilize her as she had slowly inched forward. His eyes stare apprehensively at her reactions, as if attempting to understand what she was thinking.

She could tell he couldn't understand why she had turned away from him, why she had given her life forfeit even for a second. He continues to hold her firmly, not letting her move an inch, but not making a move to end her either. He holds a silence prevailed even with the thundering tuskvore in the background. His silent question just repeated over and over again.

"I'd rather die to you than that thing." Quinn grumbles, the silence finally pulling the answer from her. He huffs. She knows it means "whatever you say".

Quinn chuckles. It had been awhile since she had last had to interpret someone's non verbal responses. He just looks at her like she's grown two heads before turning his eyes to the scene below.

Quinn mirrors the movement, mind now steady. The tuskvore hadn't actually charged yet, probably intimidated by the fire slowly growing around a middle aged man. This gave them a chance. She quickly thought of her options. There had been a mudslide a couple floods back that had made a good cliff nearby a while back. If this tuskvore had taken over the area after the last one died, then he may not know of the dangers there. They could lure him into charging on the loose ground.

The only other option was to fight it, but the frightened mages would probably cause more harm than good. They could also accidentally scare the tuskvore towards Uwendale, which she had to avoid at all costs. That combined with the fact Valor meant their chances for winning were slim to none.

Quinn pulls her wrist, causing the man to look at her. "Look, I don't know who you are or why you are even here, but I have a mission to fulfill and a partner to save. Valor isn't back so I need a new wing man, you in or you out?"

He blinks slowly, weighing his options. He holds her gaze, eyes searching for something within her own. He apparently sees what he wants as his eyes light up and he nods.

Quinn lets out the breath she didn't remember holding. "Ok, here's the plan. South east of here is a cliff where a mudslide happened a few years back. Ground should still be good and soft, perfect for a rampaging tuskvore to fall off of. We just have to lure it over there… without getting impaled. If it doesn't work, we'll have to fight. However, Val should be back by then, so it'll be fine."

The man only nods, not questioning her plan or even asking who Val was. Instead he motions for her to get the beast's attention. Then he releases her, breaking back into the forest a bit to flank it on the other side.

He is the herder. She is the bait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Quinn flinches at the sudden loss of the man's presence. Then she breathes in, looking once more at the scene ahead. The tuskvore had chosen to attempt chasing Christin as he was away from the fire. Christin had thus far avoided getting impaled, but a gouge on his leg showed how close it had been. He would be hard pressed to dodge the next charge.

Quinn leaps down into the clearing, earning a shriek from one of the mages. This causes the beast to turn, it's beady eyes leaving Christin to look at this new arrival. With her stance low to the ground, Quinn aims her crossbow right between the beast's eyes and releases. The bolt sticks with a loud thunk into its forehead.

The beast stands stock still for a second, as if trying to comprehend what just hit it. Then it snorts, rage building up slowly as it aims its horns at Quinn. It stamps twice before hurling itself towards her.

Quinn quickly ducks out of the way. It attempts to pivot quickly, sliding slightly sideways into a couple of trees. The beast is furious now, Quinn the only target in its sight. It is just angry enough to focus only on her, but not angry enough to go on a full blown rampage.

Quinn dashes through the trees behind her, being sure to weave between trunks in an attempt to slow the tuskvore. She clips her crossbow to her hip, all focus on heading South-East and trying not to trip. Her ears become muted as her breathing sets her pace. She registers the thundering behind her through the vibrations in the ground. At one point the beast begins to veers towards the left a bit too far for her comfort. She turns slightly, eyes attempting to quickly see if it will attempt to pivot back. A crash rings through the forest as a thick tree branch tumbles down on the tuskvore's backside. A knife flashes through the air, burying itself in the beast's hind leg just above the knee. It roars, once again charging at the only thing it can see.

Quinn picks up her pace, the chase beginning anew. The tuskvore surges closer, no longer attempting to dodge the trunks in its path.

Her feet begin slipping as the trees around her begin to slope slightly sideways. Unburied root networks create new obstacles for both pursuer and pursued. Quinn can see the drop off up ahead. Nearby is a solid root of a large tree that had just managed to anchor itself to the top. She surges forward, a new goal in mind. She dives behind the trunk, gripping a sturdy knot before attempting to wedge her combat knife in the petricite. The knife slipped out first, but with a harder swing sunk in half way just in time. Her feet had slipped outward, unable to stop voluntarily due to the quickly disintegrating ground. She pulls herself up with her arms, moving her boots to the root in an attempt to use the grip to help cling to safety.

Satisfied with her position, Quinn steels herself for the inevitable. The tuskvore realized too late where it was and could not slow it's momentum. It had also failed to move it's weight to its hind legs due to the knife still wedged above its knee. So it had tried to stop by halting the movement of its front legs, but they continued forward, the ground giving them no purchase. It is in this way that the beast fell over the cliff, body slamming quickly into Quinn's root as it began to tumble over the edge.

The root shakes, becoming more unstable as the soil continues to follow the tuskvore's body. Quinn's boots and hand slip, leaving her clinging to her knife. The knife slowly started to dislodge from it's groove, the vibrations and weight causing stress in all the wrong directions. Quinn glances down, noting that there are no places to catch herself. This is her death. She is going to see Caleb again.

The knife's tip slowly drops out of the petricite and Quinn feels gravity begin its work.

She winces as her arm is almost yanked from its socket. The man from before was back, gripping her wrist firmly as he holds her up. He is laying on top of the root, one arm wrapped around it for support, the other arm tense as it strains to keep her in his grasp. He nods his head towards his grip.

Quinn hesitates before returning the grip on his wrist. She works with him to pull her up until she can use her free hand to wedge her knife back into the tree. With this as leverage, they are able to lift her onto the top of the root. They breathe heavily together for a minute, both moving to sit on the root, their gazes pointing downward. Neither wanted to look at the other, unsure of what would come next.

Quinn calms her mind as her adrenaline slowly fades leaving a dull pounding in her skull. She sneaks a glance at the stranger. His hood is a blue similar to her own, but not as deep. Silver accents sharpen its contours. It hangs off his shoulders in strips, each leading to a sharp blade sewn in at the edge. His clothes are a bit more practical, built out of work leather for flexibility and with a thick guard over his chest. They're dyed in the same blue and a deep purple of his cloak, a purposeful decision for optimal stealth. One of his arm guards looks as if it extends into a large blade.

She sighs, unsure of what to do with this information. He clearly isn't Demacian, despite the blue palate. Most likely he is a Noxian assassin sent to gather information on the new Demacian rangers. It makes sense since the rangers are often the ones gathering information in enemy territory and are the first call to deal with assassins. Only one thing isn't adding up.

Quinn feels a gaze on her face, so she turns to face the stranger fully. His mouth is chiseled in a frown. She can faintly make out his eyes in the deep shadow his hood casts. He's looking straight through her somehow, as if his mind had drifted off while examining her.

Not quite ready to address the situation, Quinn just leaves him be, sure he'll speak when he wants to. Instinctively she scans the sky for Valor, hoping to see a glimpse of the bird's return.

A faint wail reaches Quinn's ears from below. The tuskvore survived the fall, but only barely from the sounds rising up. Quinn closes her eyes, heart unable to decide whether to rejoice in or empathize with the cry of pain. In the end she feels pity. Even a tuskvore should be given a chance for a peace.

It is about a 113 meter drop to get to the bottom of the mudslide, if she remembers it right. Her emergency rope isn't going to get her even halfway down. There is a stable path a couple of miles further East that should get her to the bottom. It'd be a bit of a trek, but it is better than listening to the beast slowly bleed out below her.

Before she can change her mind, Quinn stands. Her throat meets the edge of a knife as her fingers close on the grip at her hip. Neither of them move for a minute, both attempting to gauge the other's next move. Their breathing falls in sync, both almost comfortable in the current predicament.

Slowly the stranger lowers his knife a bit. Quinn turns to look at him fully, prepared for the question in his eyes.

"I'm going to put and end to its pain. Even a beast such as it deserves mercy." He lowered his knife the rest of the way, his eyes disappearing into the shadows of his hood. He then gestured for her to lead the way.

Quinn lead the way to the trail, an unusual calm about her. She is cautious of this man. He is far faster than her, and clearly as cunning. Every instinct labeled him as dangerous, hairs raised even as he displays no intention of harm. Yet she felt comfort in this. So much so that her mind continued to wander in his presence. She doesn't even have this freedom of thought with her training partner. Maybe she is just going crazy.

The man shadows Quinn silently, his footsteps falling into her own. She can feel his eyes gazing at the back of her head and can almost hear his thoughts analyzing every move she makes.

They make their way down the face of the mountain, neither attempting to interrupt the other's thoughts.


End file.
